Abomination
by Captain Monster Masher
Summary: Sam & Dean probably would have never noticed a gang of gods kidnapping monsters if Crowley hadn't pointed it out. What's weirder than Crowley giving them a case? Hiring them to steal back something he claims is his; an unknown being the gods call Abomination. Now Sam & Dean have to figure out how to destroy a dozen deities & a way to keep her from the king of hell.
1. Chapter 1

_To my new readers, welcome! To my faithful followers, welcome back! (And no, I did not abandon the shorts I promised on Adventures.) This story takes place shortly after "Soul Survivor", which means Dean is Dean (not demon!Dean... who was too short-lived for my liking, by the by). Mostly, anyway. What else... I think that's it. Enjoy!_

* * *

She awoke to an impossible darkness. The smell of blood intertwined with the scent of rubber and canvas. Her legs, still limp from her pervious state of unconsciousness, scraped against a cool, concrete floor as her unidentified captor dragged her down a long corridor. Where she was she couldn't say, but she knew she wasn't alone.

Beyond the bag that shrouded her head she could detect the foul stench of a demon. The decaying odor of a ghoul. The animalistic scent of a werewolf. But the one fragrance that overwhelmed her senses wasn't man or beast. It was fear. And it was everywhere.

It was the strange thing who dragged her past witches and dragons and rugarus who supplied the rampant, paralyzing aura. The dread it produced was so thick she could almost choke on it.

_Hell_, she thought as she was pulled past wraiths and djinns and Amazons. _That's_ _where I am. I'm in Hell_.

The thing that forced her down the long corridor came to a halt. A heavy door swung open with a loud groan before she was flung to the hard, cold floor. Panic began to set in as she felt the unknown beast grow closer. Her heart raced as the thing cut the rope that bound her wrists together. Fresh tears began to slide down her face as the bag was removed from her head. She squinted though the dim light to study the animal who held her hostage; a giant muscular young man with lightly tanned skin, black hair and green eyes.

The man or monster or deity with green eyes (who was actually quite handsome if you could see past the crippling fear that poured from his very being) swiftly backed away and slammed the large metal door behind him.

Nervously she took in her new surroundings; a ten by ten concrete cell with a small, metal framed bed in one corner and a rusted bucket beside it. The walls were covered in messages and markings etched into the rough surface. "_Help_." "_Gods forgive me_." "_The Abomination never looses_." "_Is he coming to save me?_"

"Oh god," she muttered as she spied "_THE_ _ABOMINATION WILL BE YOUR END_" scrawled in bold letters across the heavy door in blood. An arrow painted just above this pointed up to the narrow barred window.

She sniffled hopelessly, running a hand through her long blond hair, sticky with blood from a head wound long since healed. Slowly she rose to her feet and edged towards the door. Peering out, she could tell she was in one of many cells that lined a dimly lit corridor. She could hear sobbing drift through a door not too far away. Another nearby monster moaned and yet another babbled madly about an abomination. The creature in the cell directly across from her, however, calmly and quietly stared at her.

Her neighbor, from what she could tell, was a young looking woman with long blonde hair and black stripes - or perhaps it was black hair with blonde stripes - and big, round lavender hued eyes.

"Where are we?" the blonde woman questioned, her voice trembling as she spoke. "Is this Hell?"

"No," the woman shook her head, almost smiling at the question. "What are you?"

"I'm a vampire," she replied. "You?"

"An abomination," the woman returned vaguely with a sorrowful breath.

The blonde vampire woman gulped, wondering if this innocent looking creature was the Abomination the walls warned her about.

"What's going on?" she wanted to know. "Is he a hunter?"

"No," the lavender eyed woman replied softly. "That was Deimos. The Greek god of fear."

"What does he want with us?" she timidly questioned. "Is he going to kill us?"

"No," the mystery monster spoke, lowering her eyes with a heavy tribulation. "I am."

* * *

_Truth be told, this is one of three stories I currently have my attentions on. (Not including the slew of shorts I'm attempting to start working on for other artistic purposes.) I apologize in advance if updates are slow, but my goal is at least one chapter a week._

_[Disclaimer: I don't own nor am I affiliated with Supernatural, the CW or any cast and/or crew from the show (other than that one time Richard Speight retweeted one of my tweets). Unfortunately. I have written this solely for entertainment purposes (well, practice too) and am not profiting from it. Duh.]_


	2. Chapter 2

"Would you knock it off, already?"

Sam Winchester barely glanced away from his computer at his brother's words. The screen displayed security footage of a white utility van with blacked out plates slowly pulling through a parking garage. The younger Winchester had watched the video more than a dozen times already that day, each time hoping something new would catch his eye.

"I'm tellin' you," Dean spoke from the spot on his motel bed where he expertly cleaned his large collection of weapons. "There's no case here. Those girls who went missing turned out to be vamps, remember?"

Sam did remember. It was hard to forget a detail like that. But he couldn't shake the odd feeling he had. Something about it felt off, and he was determined to get to uncover whatever mystery laid hidden from him.

Then again, it was possible Sam simply _wanted_ there to be something more. If there was a case at hand, he wouldn't have to think about Dean and how nothing lately had been quite right. Ever since the whole demon fiasco, everything was different with foreboding undertones.

"Whoever took them was probably a hunter," Dean put in his theory behind the mysterious van driver.

"Yeah," Sam admitted, pausing the video. "But why put them in the back of a van? Doesn't that seem a little, I don't know, unsafe to you?"

"It's not what I'd do," Dean replied with a shrug, cleaning a sawed off shotgun. "Maybe he drove 'em out to the middle of nowhere, hacked their heads off and buried 'em?"

"Okay," Sam began. "Maybe he did. But why'd he leave the other vampires? There were at least two more working there, right? And how'd he even find them? There's absolutely nothing that would indicate a nest was in town let alone working at the hospital."

"I don't know, Sammy," Dean spoke with a short sigh. "Maybe there was and you just missed it."

A long sigh rolled silently passed Sam's lips as his eyes flickered back to the computer screen, then to his phone.

"You hear from Garth lately?" Sam questioned.

"No," Dean shook his head. "Why?"

"He called me while you went out on a beer run," Sam mentioned as he looked back at his brother.

"So?"

"So, he said one of the church members went missing," Sam informed his older brother. "Looked like he got picked up someone in a white van."

Dean paused in his chore, considering the new information he'd received.

"That's a little weird," he admitted. "It could be a coincidence. White vans aren't exactly uncommon."

"How often is it just a coincidence, Dean?" Sam defended his suspicions. "What if this is the same guy? Why is he picking up just a few monsters and leaving the rest? How is he even finding them in the first place?"

"I don't know, Sammy," Dean replied with an annoyed groan. "But if you ask me, you're putting way too much thought into this. A bunch of missing monsters isn't exactly our problem, is it?"

Dean was right. Kidnapped monsters wasn't in their job description. But Sam couldn't shake the suspicions he held. They were monsters, sure. But for all intents and purposes, they were innocent, and picking off any kind of innocent creature didn't sit well with him.

"Seriously, Sam," Dean said as he returned to his guns. "Quit looking at that damn video and find us a real case."

The youngest Winchester began to close his laptop with a defeated sigh when a knock on the door caught their attention. Sam and Dean exchanged confused glances before looking to the door.

"Did you order a pizza?" Sam asked. "Or a hooker?"

"Ha ha," Dean returned dryly. "Very funny."

When Dean didn't make a move, Sam cautiously made his way to the door. He paused to peak through the peephole. The muscles in his jaw flexed pensively as he straightened his posture, his eyes darting back to his brother.

"What?" Dean asked. "Who is it?"

Before Sam had a chance to respond, the room filled with the unmistakable stench of sulfur. In the center of the room appeared a man in a black suit with dark hair, dark eyes and a smug smile.

"Hello boys."


	3. Chapter 3

The girl with lavender eyes tried to ignore them. She tried to shut them out. Sometimes she daydreamed that she could will them out of existence if she concentrated hard enough.

But they were always there, crowding around the caged ring. Yelling and shouting. Placing bets and drinking fancy liquors and ales that seemed so out of place in the dingy arena where they congregated.

In the center of the crowd, an Egyptian woman leaned over in her seat to whisper to a man with dark hair and light green eyes. Her brown eyes stayed on the girl as she softly spoke. The man - a Greek - nodded as a satisfactory smile spread across his lips.

So far, everything was the same as it always was when the girl with lavender eyes - the Abomination - entered the ring. The only thing that ever changed was her opponent.

Her eyes fixed themselves on the latest competitor who stood on the opposite side of the ring wearing a confidant smile. This monster - a vampire - had clearly come with one of the patrons. One of the witches or business men or maybe one of the gods who didn't hold a membership with _Sanguinibus Deorum_. Had he come from one of the tiny cells in the basement below, he wouldn't be smiling.

A bell let out a single loud "ding", alerting everyone the fight had officially begun. The shouting grew louder. Money exchanged hands and waved madly about as bets were placed. The vampire confidently danced into the center of the ring, putting his fists up.

The girl with the lavender eyes ambled away from her corner with far less enthusiasm in her step. She kept her arms relaxed at her side as she approached the vampire. For a moment he stared at her with a confused look in his brown eyes.

And then his right fist lashed out.

Abomination barely felt his knuckles as they made contact with her face. She didn't flinch when the vampire planted a forceful punch on her jaw. She hardly budged when he struck her so forceful it should have fractured her cheekbone.

For a while, Abomination allowed the vampire to work her over, laying his furious fists into her petite frame. She hated this part. It wasn't the beatings that bothered her. At the most, each blow felt like a strong gust of wind.

What she hated was letting her opponent think they stood a chance at winning.

But those were the rules. The crowds gathered here for a show, and she was the one who had to give it to them. The gods had promised her eventual freedom if she played along, and freedom was all she had ever wanted.

Abomination glanced every so often at the Greek. He watched with a pleased, knowing grin. He flexed his fingers and, once Abomination was beginning to grow bored, he gave her a simple, almost faint nod.

"I'm really sorry about this," she told the vampire as her fingers clenched into fists.

The vampire gave her a curious expression, his brows folding in confusion. His face twisted into a look of pure shock when she laid her right fist into his gut. Gasping for breath, he braced himself for the next blow.

Abomination struck him hard and fast with an uppercut to the chin. The vampire went airborne, sailing up a few feet before his body crumpled to the ground. It was when he bounced upon the stained mat that he realized he was in trouble.

The vampire flailed his limbs in a desperate effort to return to his feet, but it was too late. The Abomination was casually straddling his chest, preventing him from getting up. Despite her tiny figure and all of the vampire's strength and best efforts, he could not move.

Abomination placed her hands on either side of his face so gently it was almost eerie.

"What... what are you?" the vampire stammered as he looked into her lavender eyes.

"I am so, so sorry," she whispered.

The way she held his head in her hands, it almost looked as though she was going to kiss him. The look she gave him wasn't hateful or vicious, but kind and remorseful. As the vampire stared into her big, lovely eyes, a strange sense of peace washed over him.

With a simple thrust, a sickening, wet crunch emitted from his neck. His eyes turned cold and glassy. Abomination held his head in her hands as the rest of his body slumped onto the mat.

The crowd cheered, moaned and shouted. The Greek smiled with satisfaction as the Egyptian filed her nails with a bored expression on her face. Abomination dropped the vampire's head as she rose, and retreated to her corner of the caged ring.

It was the same every night she fought. The noise, the gods. Monsters fighting each other to the death.

The only thing that changed was that she was slowly beginning to enjoy herself.


	4. Chapter 4

_Happy New Year, everyone! Terribly sorry for the update gap. I was having a hard time getting this chapter out of my head for some reason. Then yesterday I crafted a few resolutions for the new year for the first time in a while. Long story short, they all boiled down to "stop procrastinating so damn much" and all of a sudden, this just kind of slipped out. Yay! Anyway, I hope you enjoy! _

* * *

_New Orleans, __Louisiana_

"I don't like this."

A soft, inaudible sigh passed through Sam's lips. Ever since Crowley had turned up in their motel room a few days back, Dean had been relentlessly vocal on his feelings towards the situation the brothers had become a part of.

"I don't like it either," Sam replied, his eyes glued to the gates of a lavish country club.

The original plan was to explore it from the inside, but the men found it unusually difficult to infiltrate the exceptionally exclusive club. Two thick, muscle bound men who refused them admittance stood guard just inside of the gate, and cameras all but lined the tall stone walls. So the Winchesters sat in the Impala and kept watch for suspicious activity.

"Then why are we here?" Dean questioned, shifting uncomfortably behind the steering wheel.

"Because a gang of gods is bad news, Dean," Sam replied.

"I'm not denying that it's not," Dean defended. "And believe me, the idea of icing something is making me feel like a giddy little school girl. But we have literally zero leads that there's a single god in town let alone an entire 'gang' of them."

"Other than what Crowley told us."

"My point exactly," Dean pointed out. "Since when are you all buddy buddy with him?"

"I'm not," Sam replied, cringing at the thought.

"Then why are we here?" Dean asked again. "Even if there are a bunch of gods running around, they're not exactly posing a problem. Hell, if anything they're helping us out by nabbing monsters. We should be sending 'em a fruit basket instead of playing NSA on a place they may or may not run."

"Yeah, but the monsters they're taking are innocent," Sam defended.

"As far as we know," Dean argued. "Since when is it our job to help monsters?"

Sam didn't respond. He knew his brother was right. There was no way they should have traveled all the way to New Orleans based on Crowley's word. Not for a bunch of missing monsters and rumors of a god run organized crime syndicate. Sparing innocent beasts was progressive enough as far as hunting was concerned. Saving them was downright bizarre.

But Sam couldn't shake the feeling that this case held importance. He didn't know why, not yet. He had long since learned that intuition was just as powerful a sense as sight and sound when it came to hunting, and he was determined to uncover exactly why his instincts were begging him to stay.

"You know Crowley's after something," Dean went on as Sam watched a dark haired man in his mid-thirties with an attractive Egyptian looking woman on his arm stroll up to the gates. "If there are some high-level gods here, he didn't tell us about it out of the goodness of his heart."

Sam absently nodded, his gaze fixed on the couple. Likely they were just patrons of the ritzy club, but Sam put their images in the back of his mind just in case. The trouble with hunting gods was that they all looked human until they started snacking on the local virgins. Even then it was only under certain lighting or when they got mad enough that their true forms shone through. Sometimes they never revealed their true face at all.

"Seriously," Dean continued to whine. "I say we pack up and find us a real case. One that Crowley has no interest in."

Sam sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that day.

"We will," he promised. "Let's just make sure nothing weird is going on here first."

* * *

Sam still dreamed about her. Jess. Even after all these years, she never strayed far from his mind. Not even when the young Winchester was sleeping.

In his dreams, she was still alive and the two of them were doing something normal; having coffee, doing homework, buying a house. Most of the time, that is. Once in a while he dreamed she was a ghost he profusely apologized to for hours. A few times he'd had nightmares that consisted of her being one of the spirits Sam and his brother were hunting.

But tonight was different. Jess was there, standing before him in her white nightgown with her curly blonde locks falling elegantly around her shoulders and a soft smile on her lips. It was her but, somehow, it wasn't. As if she were too perfect. Too vivid.

"Look inside," she spoke.

"Look where?" Sam asked.

"Inside," she told him. She took his hand and gently pulled him towards a tall, wrought iron gate - the same gate Sam had spent all afternoon watching. The words _Clava Deorum_ were etched with a gold inlay in the smooth black marble above the iron doors.

"I can't go in there," Sam told her.

"Sure you can," Jess insisted. "I'll show you."

Effortlessly, as if it were made of silk strands, she pushed the gate wide open. She lead him inside the vast property past manicured lawns and lavish gardens and fountains carved from marble. People in expensive suits and designer dresses milled about, but none of them paid heed to the girl in her pajamas and the giant man in dirty flannel and denim.

The pair found their way to the extravagant building that looked more like a grand hotel than a country club. Two men sat on the wrap around porch playing chess, each with a red "Hello, My Name Is" tag pressed to their fine jackets. The blond man's tag read _Berstuk_ while the other - a dark haired man with pale skin - wore a tag that read _Chernobog_.

"Do you see them?" Jess asked, and Sam nodded.

"Look inside," she told him, motioning for Sam to follow her into the structure.

He did as he was told, but not before pausing to read the inscription carved eloquently above the open doors;

_Revereor ~ Metuo ~ Cultus_

Even in his sleep, Sam knew Latin when he saw it. Their translation, however, escaped him at the time, so he let it go and followed his lost girlfriend past the threshold.

The inside decor resembled a modernized Victorian era. Bouquets of red roses sat in fragile vases atop glass tables. Busts of Greek gods and classical musicians and dead poets stood on marble posts. Full ferns sat in giant white pots on either side of a grand staircase that ascended to the second floor. Oil paintings and mirrors hung from finished, oak wood walls, all framed in gold.

Jess led him through the lobby. They wandered through an upscale bar where a women and a man sat with cocktails between their fingers and name tags on their fine clothes. The woman - redheaded - wore on her black dress a name tag that displayed the name _Anann_, while the man with black hair wore his tag on his black suit, claiming to be called _Camulos_.

"Do you see them?" Jess asked and Sam nodded.

Jess continued to lure him around the property. In the billiard room, Sam spied a couple of dark haired, tan skinned men whose name tags called them _Set_ and _Nergal_. A woman with a red hibiscus tucked neatly into her flowing black hair lounged by the pool in a red and orange muumuu with a name tag that read _Pele._ A blonde woman in a green dress whose tag displayed the name _Ajatar_ read poetry on a bench in the elaborate green house. On the third floor, a man with black hair, light green eyes and a satisfied smirk - the man Sam had seen earlier - looked over the property through a window nearly the entire size of the wall from a large chair which he sat upon like it were a throne. The tag on his gray suit read _Aries_. The Egyptian woman Sam remembered from earlier stood by Aries, bearing the name _Ammit_ on her blue dress.

After Jess showed him each god, she would make sure he had noticed them by asking "Do you see them?"

"Who are they?" Sam asked.

"_Sanguinibus Deorum_," Jess replied. "The Blood Gods. They practically run New Orleans."

"Is this real?" Sam had to ask. "How am I seeing this?"

"Come," Jess said. "There's more I have to show you."

She led him back down to the main floor. She took him through the lobby and past the bar. They walked through the kitchen and down into the basement. And from there they climbed down into the sub basement.

A tall, muscular young man with lightly tanned skin, dark hair and green eyes leaned beside a locked door at the bottom of the stairs, his attention on the smartphone in his hands. His black t-shirt read _Deimos_. Jess pulled the heavy, metallic door open and stepped inside the dimly lit corridor beyond the threshold.

"Come," she beckoned to Sam. "I need you to see this."

Sam's stomach clenched as he slowly shuffled down the hall passed doors that looked as if they belonged in a prison. The sorrowful sound of sobs and moans filled his ears as he walked, begging an invisible force to rescue them. He peered between the bars in the small, rectangular windows, spying crumpled figures laying on hard, cement floors.

"What is this place?" Sam asked, but Jess did not reply. Instead, she opened a cell door. Wordlessly she motioned for him to enter. Sam, having no reason to distrust her, stepped inside the cramped cell, but found it to be bare.

"I don't understand," Sam spoke. "Why am I here?"

He turned to Jess, but she was gone. In her place stood a petit young woman with blonde and black hair. Her large, round lavender eyes blinked desperately up at him as she grasped his shoulders.

"Save me," she begged. "You have to save me."

Sam bolted upright in his bed.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey folks! Sorry for the prolonged space between updates. I'm going through what I'm referring to it as "inspiration overload". I have, like, five other stories going on in my head right now. I'm also a little ADD and under slept, which makes it hard for me to concentrate on one thing at a time._

_Anyway, here you go. Advanced __apologies if there's another gap between updates. If anyone knows any tricks to focusing, I'm all ears (or eyes, as it were)._

* * *

"Did you do it? You make contact?"

Abomination slowly opened her eyes. The voice had filtered in through a crack in the wall just inches from where she rested her head.

"Yes," she replied. "I don't know if it'll work." She paused to let a hopeless sigh roll passed her lips. "No one ever believes me."

Dream walking. It was one of the few abilities she had inherited from her mother. She hadn't known about it, not until recently. Discovering it gave her the first glimmer of hope she'd felt since Deimos had captured her.

She knew it was risky, slipping into the dreams of complete strangers to put out an S.O.S. While she liked to think she knew the faces of her captor's friends, she also knew their organization ran deep. There was always a chance she could accidentally waltz into the dreams of a _Deorum_ loyalist. If the gods knew she was attempting an escape, there would be consequences. Though Abomination was certain Ares and the others had no way of killing her, she knew there were things far worse than death.

"Tomorrow's a full moon," the voice floated quietly through the crack.

"They gonna make you fight?" Abomination asked.

"Course they are," the voice returned.

"I'm sure you'll make it," she told him. "You've made it this far. Not a lot monsters make it this long."

It was true. Her neighbor, Jax, had been there for nearly eight months. Besides the demon at the end of the hall who'd been there for ten months, Abomination hadn't seen anyone last more than five.

She glanced up at the wall and counted the tallies she'd kept. 403. She had been there for one year, one month, and one week - give or take a day or two. She was the reigning champion.

"I overheard Ares," Jax's voice hesitantly began. "They're... they're gonna make me fight you, 'Bom."

Abomination lowered her eyes and her heart began to race. Jax had made her hellish existence somewhat bearable over the past eight months. She never had much to say herself, but his voice brought her comfort. Having him next door, for the first time in her life she didn't feel so alone.

And in twenty-four hours, she would be forced to kill him.

"Promise me somethin'?" Jax asked.

"What's that?"

"Just make it fast?" he requested.

Abomination hesitated. She considered offering to take a dive. Let her only friend do her in so he could keep on going.

But it would be pointless. Even if she tried to let him win, she wasn't entirely sure she could die. At least, not at the hands of a werewolf.

"Sure, Jax," she agreed at last. "You won't even feel it."

Silence fell, and for a while Abomination wondered if he had gone to sleep. She listened to the sounds of a ghoul quietly sobbing in a nearby cell. She could hear a djinn mumbling to himself and a vampire carving something into the walls. She wondered if she would go insane from the pathetic whimpers and deafening silence once Jax was gone.

Then she wondered if she was capable of insanity at all.

"Hey, 'Bom," Jax spoke through the crack.

"Yeah, Jax?"

"You think, seein' as how it's my last night an' all, you could tell me about yourself?" the werewolf requested.

"There's not much to tell," Abomination replied.

"Even so," he spoke. "Consider it a dyin' man's wish."

"What do you want to know?"

"What's your name?"

"I don't have a name," Abomination told him.

"Come on," Jax spoke with disbelief. "Everybody's got a name."

"My dad called me Darling," Abomination recalled.

"What about your mom? What'd she call you?"

A small, fond smile spread across her lips at the memory of her mother.

"Luna," she replied. "My mother called me Luna. Her little night angel."

"Then that's your name," Jax said. "It's better than Abomination."

"No," Abomination shook her head. "I don't deserve a "better" name. I'd be considered a miracle if my existence wasn't a flaming... well, abomination."

"You're too hard on yourself," the voice attempted to ease her self doubt. "Who your parents are ain't no fault of yours, just like me gettin' bit by a wolf was no fault of mine."

"That's easy for you to say," she muttered back. "Your existence isn't an affront to God."

"Whatever," Jax sighed with defeat. "Luna."

Despite the fact she felt undeserving of a name beyond what Ares had given her, hearing Jax call her Luna put a smile on her lips.

"Tell me more," Jax pleaded.

"I don't know what to say," she said.

"Please, Luna," he begged. "It's my last night on earth. Don't make me spend it listening to that god damn demon grumbling to himself." He paused. "Tell me about your mom. What was she like?"

Abomination sighed.

"She was... different," she begrudgingly began. "Different for her kind. I guess she'd have to be if she had me, right?" She paused, thinking fondly of her mother. "She was kind. Loving. She wasn't around much, but it was to protect me. She had to keep up appearances. Pretend like I didn't exist."

Abomination closed her eyes as the memories flooded back to her. She had never shared her story with anyone before. It wasn't long, exciting or complex, but it felt nice to have someone to tell it to.

"I spent most of my life running," she continued. "Hiding from those that would see me dead just because of what I am. Every time I started to get used to one place, mom was always whisking me away to another."

"You did a lot of traveling, then?" Jax asked.

"That's one way of looking at it," Abomination said. "Really, it was like being in a big, lonely cage, but the scenery was always changing." She paused to let a deep, remorseful sigh roll past her lips. "And then my mom died. I had been hiding for so long, I didn't know how to make it on my own. So I went to live with my father, which turned out to be a different kind of lonely. He was gone a lot too, but he wasn't affectionate. He was always leaving guards with me and I was never allowed to go anywhere."

"That sucks," Jax commented.

"It was for my own safety," she explained. "According to him, anyway."

Sharing this with Jax, Abomination could hear her father in her mind.

_"If your existence were ever discovered, there would be a price on your head," he had told her. "And believe me when I tell you, not everyone would want your head on a plate. There are those who would want you for your power."_

_"But I don't have any power," she had nervously protested._

_"I know," her father had said. "But they don't. And they'd stop at nothing to try and find something remotely useful in you."_

"How'd you end up here?" Jax wondered aloud, snapping Abomination out of her flashback.

"I escaped," she replied with a regretful sigh. "Dad was gone and his men started slacking, so I left because I was tired of cages. I wanted freedom. I wanted to see the world. I was out for two days before Deimos found me."

She said the last part with a laugh, mostly because she had to do something and she didn't want to cry.

"And here you are," Jax spoke.

"And here I am," she echoed, glancing around her confining surroundings. "In another cage."

"Hey, Luna," the werewolf's voice pushed through the wall. "Seein' as how it's my last night on earth, you think you could tell me what you are?"

She sighed and, staring blankly at the wall, replied, "I am an abomination."


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey guys! Sorry for the extremely prolonged hiatus. I've been dealing with some health issues and real life stuffs. Anyway, I have returned to the world of fanfiction. Hopefully it won't take another three months to get the next chapter out, am I right?_

* * *

"What are you, psychic again?" Dean paused as a worried look crossed his brow. "You're not psychic again are you?"

"No," Sam replied from his seat at the round, plywood table in their motel room. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm not."

"Then why are you so sure this was some kind of vision?" Dean questioned skeptically.

"I don't know," Sam said. "It just felt a little too detailed." He paused, his face turning thoughtful. "Kinda like dream walking."

"You think someone popped into your dreams?" Dean asked. "Like, with African dream root?"

"I don't know," Sam shook his head, his brow creased as he scavenged his brain for a connection to the familiarity of his dream. "It felt more… celestial," he attempted to explain.

"Like an angel? You think there's an angel locked up at that country club?"

"Maybe," Sam said with a shrug. "Or maybe a really powerful witch."

Dean nodded, accepting the theory that someone—or some_thing_—had visited his brother's dreams.

"So you're telling me there's a basement full of fuglies sitting on top of a country club that's run by a bunch of gods?" he gives the abridged version of Sam's dream in the form of a question.

"Not just any gods," Sam began sullenly. "There was Czernobog, the Slavic god of darkness. Set, the Egyptian trickster god. Nergal, the Mesopotamian god of war and violence. Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of violence."

"I thought Pele was the goddess of volcanos," Dean commented.

"That too," Sam confirmed. "The point is, there aren't just about a dozen gods in there. There are a dozen violent gods in there, and they've got a zoo of monsters guarded by Deimos, the Greek god of fear. Oh, and Deimos's dad, Ares? The Greek god of war? He's running the show."

Dean pondered this for a moment. He attempted to formulate a plan, but was a loss.

"How do we know for certain this is even real?" Dean challenged. "What if whatever messed with your dreams is setting a trap? Trying to lure us in?"

"I don't think so," Sam spoke, his mind flashing back to the girl with the lavender eyes. "There was this girl at the end. She looked desperate." He paused to let out a long sigh. "This is gonna take some work, Dean. We have to research every one of these gods and figure out how to kill them. I bet none of them even die the same way."

"Do we?" Dean proposed.

"Uh, yeah Dean," Sam replied. "We can't just let these gods walk around."

"Yeah, but aren't you a little curious as to why Crowley wants us to kill them?" Dean supplied an excellent question.

Sam's expression tensed as he clenched his jaw. He didn't like Crowley. He didn't like that the only reason they were in New Orleans was because of Crowley. And he especially didn't like the fact that killing the sinister bunch would likely behove Crowley. But he didn't know what else to do.

"Besides," Dean went on calmly. "I don't see the harm in them keeping a few exotic pets. It gives us a few less things to hunt."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"How many blood thirsty gods do you know that don't eat people?" he asked. "Come on, Dean. You're acting like you don't want to do this. I thought you were…" He trailed off, uncertain how—or if—he wanted to finish that sentence.

"Jonesing to kill something?" Dean finished with defensive annoyance. Sam pursed his lips.

"That's not what I meant," he softly began.

"No, it is," Dean nodded. "I told you I'm fine."

But he wasn't. His muscles and his body ached for blood. The Mark called for pure and utter carnage. And it scared him. He hadn't been consumed enough to not let it scare him. He wanted to feel death so badly he nearly shook, yet remained terrified to feed the Mark. He knew the Mark's craving could never be satisfied. The more he killed, the more he wanted to kill. There would never be enough.

Dean forced a smile to form on his calm exterior.

"I just don't think we owe Crowley any favors," he attempted to explain his behavior away. "Especially not a favor this big."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, agreeing that the situation at the club house was big, even for them. "We might have to call for backup."

"Good god, don't call for bloody backup."

The Winchesters twisted around as the sharp scent of sulfur filled the air. Crowley stood just a few feet in front of the door, dressed in his usual black suit and with a smug expression plastered across his face.

"Yeah, well, we're not going in there up against a dozen gods by ourselves," Dean spat bitterly at the king.

"Whoever said anything about killing them?" Crowley questioned with a raised brow.

Sam frowned.

"If you don't want us to kill them, then why did you send us here?" the hunter quizzed.

"I didn't 'send' you here," the demon spoke. "I merely suggested you take a trip to New Orleans and that if you happened to stumble upon something I might be interested in your find."

"That's not how I remember it," Dean spoke with a creased brow.

Crowley rolled his eyes, clearly uninterested in debating how he had convinced them to drive to the southern city.

"Kill them, don't kill them," he began with a bored tone. "I don't really care. But I would prefer it if you waited to commit suicide until after you've procured a certain… item."

"I knew it," Dean slammed his palm on the table, an action the demon hardly seemed to notice. "I knew this was some big favor."

"Of course it is," Crowley spoke as if it were obvious.

"We don't owe you any favors, Crowley," Sam said. "In fact, you owe us just for not killing you right now."

"Please, Samantha," Crowley rolled his eyes again. "I've heard this bit before, yet I remain, so save your empty threats for a lesser demon who still quivers at the very mention of your name."

Sam clenched his jaw but said nothing.

"Now, this item—"

"Who says we're going to get it for you?" Dean cut the king off, folding his arms as he spoke.

"I do," Crowley replied smoothly. "This is what we do now. I do things for you, you do things for me."

"Since when?"

"Since right bloody now, okay?!" Crowley yelled, his face flushing with annoyed rage.

"What do the gods have that you want so bad?" Sam questioned curiously. Crowley glanced back at Sam.

"They took something of mine," the demon replied. "I want it back."

"What is it?"

"I can't give you any specifics," Crowley told them.

"Could you at least give us a fucking hint?" Dean questioned.

"Lavender," Crowley said. "It's in the subbasement. You'll know it when you see it."

Sam's mind flashed with recognition.

"Why can't you get it yourself?" Dean pressed the king for details.

"It's warded," Crowley replied. "Besides, they all know me." He paused and glanced between the two. "I'll pay you."

"You'll _what_?" The eldest Winchester couldn't believe the king's offer.

"Gold, silver, cash," the demon began to list. "Whiskey. However you want it, I'll make sure you're compensated."

Dean and Sam exchanged a skeptical look. Whatever it was Crowley wanted–and Sam was fairly certain he did–the king wanted it bad. Attempting to hire his on-again, off-again arch enemies painted a clear portrait of the demon's desperation, which is something both Winchesters found highly curious.

"So, are you going to be useful or do I have to find another pair of twits?"

Dean stared at him with a look of satisfaction at the answer he was about to supply.

"No way in—" he began, but was swiftly interrupted.

"We'll do it," the younger Winchester jumped in.

Dean shot his brother a glare while Crowley eyed him with suspicious surprise.

"We'll go in there," Sam went on when no one responded. "We'll get your 'item'."

"Well, then," the demon began, carefully reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. "You're going to need these."

He pulled out two pieces of black photo paper with elegant gold lettering that danced across its surface.

"Invitations," Crowley explained as he tossed them onto the table. "For tomorrow's fight."

"Fight?" Dean echoed. "What fight?"

"You'll see," Crowley said with a menacing smile.

He disappeared as he had arrived, into thin air with a thick scent of sulfur.

"What did you say yes for?" Dean barked at Sam the instant the demon had vanished.

"Lavender," Sam said. "Crowley said 'lavender'."

"And?"

"The girl in my dream," he began to babble as the pieces fell into place. "I think she was the one who gave me that dream." He paused, glancing up at Dean. "She had lavender eyes."

Dean's face fell into understanding.

"You saw her in the subbasement, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"What is she?" Dean questioned, to which Sam simply shook his head.

"I don't know," he replied. "But whatever she is, Crowley wants her. And if Crowley wants her, we can't let him get to her."

"And a gang of blood thirsty gods probably shouldn't have her either," Dean commented. He studied the invitations before letting out a sarcastic "awesome."


	7. Chapter 7

Businessmen, witches and demigods crowded the cage, shouting hungrily as they exchanged money. Aries watched over his operation with a smug, satisfied smile. Ammit fixed her eyes upon the lavender eyed girl in the far corner of the cage and whispered into the Greek's ear, causing him to smirk. Everything was just as it always was, but nothing was the same.

At least, everything was different to Abomination. She had fought and killed at least a hundred monsters, but her opponent had never been a friend before. Tonight she would kill the only friend she'd ever had.

Abomination felt heavy, yet strangely empty, as she watched Jax in the corner across the ring. The werewolf was shackled to the cage which held him back as he snarled and snapped at the audience. His fingernails had become claws, his teeth fangs, and his eyes a beastly greenish-yellow.

The Abomination felt her stomach knot. Until now, she had never laid eyes upon her friend, and it pained her to realize it was his wolf form she would only ever get to see.

He was very handsome, she decided as she watched Jax ferociously rattle the cage. He was fit and well toned with a chiseled jawline and a full head of thick, sandy blonde hair. His face looked clean shaven—probably done by the gods for presentation purposes—save for a neatly sculpted beard that hugged a pair of plump lips. His eyes, she imagined, were probably a sky blue when he wasn't in wolf form.

The sound of the bell called out and the crowd grew louder, almost rabid with excitement and bloodlust. Abomination's stomach sank as she slowly maneuvered her way towards the center of the ring. Deimos casually released Jax, who cowered pitifully from the god in the corner. Once the werewolf's bonds had been removed, Deimos exited the cage. Jax scrambled to his feet as if nothing had happened and ferociously set his sights on the black-and-blonde headed girl.

Abomination clenched her fists and sucked in a deep breath. Her hands began to tremble as she watched Jax, who began to prowl about the ring in slow, menacing circles. She had to kill him, she knew that. But if she was going to keep her promise to her friend, she would have to break her standing agreement with the _Deorum; _put on a show, make the fight last as long as possible to assure the audience got their money's worth, and, if she won enough fights, Aries would set her free.

To Abomination, there was no real decision to make. There was only one way the fight could go. And, though her solid, emotionless exterior would have you believe otherwise, she was heartbroken and terrified.

"I'm so sorry, Jax," she spoke to the wolf whose circles became smaller, closer. She had no idea if Jax—the real Jax who was temporarily submerged in his own mind while the wolf took its turn at the helm—could hear her, but she went on anyways, just in case he could. "It never should have come to this."

Abomination stood in place as the werewolf continued to revolve around her, following him with her eyes as best as she could.

"I should have found us a way out," she spoke to the growling creature who eyed her hungrily. "I should have forced something out."

_Forced what out?_ Jax's voice calmly questioned in her mind.

At first, Abomination was sure his voice was imaginary. She'd never been a mind reader, not ever. And the way the wolf eyed her, she was certain the only thing he was thinking about was how good her heart probably tasted.

"Something to help us escape," she replied anyway.

_Can't force what you ain't got._

"I could have done more," she insisted out loud, despite not being entirely convinced she was somehow accessing Jax beyond the wolf.

_This is not your fault_.

The wolf's circles progressively got smaller and shorter until, at last, he stood face to face with Abomination. He growled and bore his teeth, but there was something in his eye that told her he recognized her. Not too far beneath the look of pure animal instinct was sorrow laced with understanding.

Abomination forced her nerves to remain as still as possible. She commanded the unshed tears to retreat and halted the wild urge to grab Jax by the wrist and attempt an impromptu prison break. She refused to show her captors emotion, and she knew making a run for it would only yield in Jax's death and something unknown but definitely horrible for her.

"You won't feel a thing," she whispered.

_See you on the other side_.

She knew she wouldn't. It was a realization that made what she had to do that much harder. When—or if—she died, she wasn't sure where she would go, if she would go anywhere at all. But she knew the one place she wouldn't end up was Purgatory.

Abomination didn't tell him this, of course. He would find out soon enough. Instead, she tried something new. If she had been able to access his thoughts, maybe there was a way to access his mind entirely. She'd done it to people in their sleep, and Jax was, for all intents and purposes, asleep.

Gently, she laid two fingers upon his forehead. Abomination gathered an invisible energy she wasn't even sure she had from within herself and focused as hard as she could on sending it through her fingertips and into Jax. Within a second's time, the werewolf went from upright to the ring's floor in an unconscious heap. Unconscious, but not dead.

The crowd began to grow restless as Abomination knelt down beside Jax's peaceful figure. She knew if she hesitated now, she wouldn't be able to finish what she had started and would ruin both her promise to her friend and her chance at being granted freedom. She plunged her hand into his chest as if his flesh were made of water, and when she extracted it, her fingers were clutched tightly around his heart.

The audience exploded with fury, beyond upset their hunger for a bloody battle had not been satisfied. They booed, they hissed, they jeered and threw empty bottles at the cage. Aries swiftly rose to his feet with an angry, displeased look plastered across his face. Ammit slowly stood with him, looking down on Abomination with a sly smile.

Abomination did not see Aries rise, or Ammit's odd grin. The lavender eyed monster slayer stood with the organ still clenched in her fist. Her own heart rapidly hammered within her chest as she stared down at her friend's heart and the blood that stained her hand. The sight made her tremble, but not just because of the deed she had been forced to preform. Assuredly, she was upset by Jax's death, but what really got to her was how terribly _good_ it all felt; taking his life, feeling his heart in her hand, watching his blood roll from her fingers down her arm.

"No," she whispered to herself, suddenly dropping the heart from her clutches. She turned her back on Jax's body, but her gaze remained fixed on her bloodied hand. "No no no no no no no no no."

Her head spun and her gut clenched. She'd never thrown up, not once in her life, but now she felt as if she would at any moment.

"You broke our deal," a vexed voice suddenly spoke from just behind her. A harsh hand clamped down upon her shoulder and pulled her into the athletic body of Aries. Abomination allowed herself to sway into her captor, uninterested in struggling. She was too lost in the blood that coated her fingers and the conflicting emotions it evoked.

"Look at me," Aries commanded. When his champion did not respond, he grasped her face with his right hand and forced her head to turn to him. Abomination dazedly blinked up at him.

"You broke our deal," Aries repeated, clearly upset but ominously reserved.

Abomination did not respond.

"Look at all these people you've disappointed," the _Deorum _leader spoke as he forced her to survey the furious audience. "They paid for a show, and you've ruined their evening. Now I'll have to pull two of my other pets up and I was not prepared to loose another tonight."

Again, Abomination did not reply. She gulped, but managed to muster the strength to show no emotion. No sadness, no fear, no hate. Nothing.

And then Aries directed her gaze to the center of the ring to a scene that caused Abomination's eyes to widen and her stomach to drop. Ammit stood over Jax's body, her tall heels planted carelessly in the blood that had been pooling around the dead wolf while a victorious smile formed on her red lips. The Egyptian bent down and ceremoniously scooped up the heart. She held the organ above her head triumphantly, which, to some degree, pleased the otherwise dissatisfied crowd.

Abomination squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to watch what would come next.

"Open your eyes, you worthless abomination," Aries spat angrily, shaking her head with such force it would have snapped anyone else's neck. "Open your eyes and see for yourself what Ammit will do with your friend's heart."

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes to find the Egyptian had been watching her, waiting for her gaze to meet her. As soon as Ammit was satisfied she had gained Abomination's full attention, she lifted the heart to her lips and, to Abomination's horror, ravenously began to devour it.

It was after Jax's heart had been completely consumed by Arie's companion that Abomination managed to free herself from the Greek's firm grasp. Tears streamed down her face as she collapsed to her knees and began to vomit. What she threw up, she didn't know, for she seldom ever ate, yet there it was all the same.

Once her mostly non-functioning stomach had rid itself of anything that was remotely possible to expunge, she began to convulse with an overload of emotion; sorrow, guilt and the persistent feeling of being trapped. But what she felt more intensely than any of the emotions that flooded her small frame was a raw, unadulterated hatred. She had never hated the gods more than she did in that moment. And she didn't just want to escape their clutches anymore. Now she wanted to destroy every single one of them. She wanted to rip them limb from limb. She wanted to kill them all, and she wanted them to feel it. Through severe pain, she wanted to show every god, witch, and mortal in that room just how deeply she hated them.

Aries grasped her by the arm with the intention of forcing her back to her feet, but he pulled away almost as quickly as he had grabbed her, gasping in pain as he broke contact. Abomination watched with horror as the god stared at the palm of his hand.

_Oh, no,_ she thought to herself as she attempted to calm her swelling emotions. _What have I done?_

Not only had she proved to the gods she was capable of emotion, she had accidentally discovered a new ability in a crowd of the type of people her father had warned her about. Upon looking around, Abomination realized no one had seemed to noticed. No one, of course, but Aries, which meant she may as well have shown the whole damn world what she could do.

"Come," Aries barked, taking a handful of Abomination's white t-shirt and yanking her to her feet.

The _Deorum _leader dragged her back to her cell with his son, Deimos, in tow. Once Deimos had unlocked the thick, metal door, Aries hurled Abomination in as harshly as possible. Abomination spun to the far corner of the cell where she burst into tears as she laid upon the cold, hard ground, trembling with uncertainty. God only knew what the gods would do to her now.

Aries entered her tiny cell and motioned for Deimos to lock the door behind him. He began to pace as he pondered what he would say or do.

"You disappoint me," he said at last as Abomination openly wept on the floor mere feet in front of him.

He paused in his pacing, waiting for her to respond.

"Stop your blubbering," he commanded with an annoyed eye roll. "Warriors don't cry."

Abomination attempted to stifle her tears and her fears, but the harder she tried to choke everything back, the harder cried. She felt dizzy, and every molecule in her being seemed to hum and vibrate. For a moment, she felt like, if she willed herself, she could explode.

"Pathetic," Aries scoffed. "Worthless scum." He paused and gradually leaned in towards her where he whispered, "abomination."

He was right, she thought. She was pathetic. She was an abomination, and a worthless one at that. If she was going to continue her existence as a mockery of God and His handiwork, she should at least be able to do something, anything, other than move from cage to cage. Something other than simply existing.

"You know what I think?" Aries spoke, straightening his posture. "I think you've won too many fights."

A sob caught in Abomination's throat. Her tears stopped and she managed to calm her heavy breath as she waited for her captor to elaborate.

But he didn't. Instead, the war god left her wondering what he had in store for her.


End file.
